


Vengeance

by imera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Murder, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/pseuds/imera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war ending didn't mean <i>happily ever</i> after for all-- at least not for Draco, who witnessed his father's death. The road to recovery wasn't easy, especially when the murderer was still free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of Angst Big Bang, and while the first four chapters can be read as a story by themselves, I will add more as soon as I get my plot worked out.

 

  


Growing up, Draco heard many stories about great wars. The hero always saved the day by vanquishing the evil, making everything a better place for everyone. While he was in less danger of being murdered by the Dark Lord for failing him, or simply displeasing him, Draco’s life did not return to how it used to be.

When the war ended and the good won, Draco feared his whole family would be locked up in Azkaban for what they did, only to be surprised when Harry Potter decided to speak for them, and nobody dared to say anything against Harry. That they avoided Azkaban didn’t mean they weren’t punished; instead of being put in jail, they were sentenced to pay for damages caused by the war. Draco and his family were free to return home, which could hardly be called a home after what the Dark Lord had done to it, but it was their only home after the ministry took their other houses as payment.

They didn’t have as much as they once did, but Draco was happy his family was still together; little did he know that not even a year after the Dark Lord was killed, his life would be turned upside down yet again.

It was a normal day, or as normal as it could be after the war. He spent time in his room, reading, avoiding society as much as he could. It wasn’t because he wanted to stay hidden, but because whenever he went out there was always someone who thought they’d let him know exactly what should have happened to him or his family.

While he sat by his desk with one of his favourite books, his nose was assaulted by a strange smell. Looking up from his book he sniffed the air, recognising the faint scent of smoke, finding it strange due to all the fireplaces had charms which prevented smells from entering the room. Deciding to locate the source of the it he ignored his book and left his room, noticing the thin layer of smoke coming from the first floor. Pulling out his wand from his sleeve, he ran down the stairs, his body switching between cold and warm as he didn’t know what he would see.

It was as if his heart stopped for a second when he realised where the fire was coming from, his father’s study, knowing his father spent most of his day locked in that room. He ran to the door and pushed it open, only to cover his face as a wall of intense heat and thick smoke hit his face. His eyes burned instantly and his lungs ached whenever he took a breath.

”Father!” he called into the smoky room, certain his father was there somewhere between the flames. Because he didn’t know any fire extinguishing charms, he used a simple repelling charm which could keep the smoke at bay for a few seconds as he entered the room, hoping it would be enough for him to locate and save his father. The heat was so intense it felt as if his skin was burning, and his eyes watered because of the smoke. ”Father!” he screamed again, the bright flames blinding him.

”Draco!” a woman shrieked behind him. He barely heard her as he searched for his father, the flames and smoke making it difficult for him to see anything. He found himself coughing as the smoke entered his lungs, but he forgot all about his discomfort when he saw a badly burned body on the floor next to his father’s desk.

”Father!” he yelled, wanting to reach the body but finding himself unable to as a large wall of fire parted them. ”Father!” he cried again. Tears escaped his eyes, he was unable to tell if it was because of the smoke or because he was certain the body was his father. Not wanting to leave him since he was so close, he tried to cross the fire. ”Father,” he called again, his head feeling strange and his eyes were clouded by tears, but before he reached the body his knees gave in and he hit the floor.

He found it difficult to hold onto reality as the scene in front of him was so surreal, seeing his father’s body beyond the flames. As he sat on his knees he wondered how long it would be before he would meet the same fate as his father. Right before he feared his final moment had come, he felt strong arms tighten around his chest and pull him away from the burning room. Draco stared at the body, reaching for it as his own body was being pulled further away by the stranger.

Only when they were on the other side of the hall did he feel as he could finally breathe again, and it wouldn’t take long before his eyes cleared enough so he could see. Turning around he recognised his mother, crying as she held him tightly, her lower lip trembling as she stared at the burning room where the fire expanded.

“Father,” Draco coughed, trying to break free of his mother’s grasp and return to save his father.

“It’s too late,” she cried, her arms tightening around him.

“No,” he screamed, ripping himself free from her grip, wanting to enter the study once more to save his father, even if there was no chance his father was alive.

“Draco, no, he’s dead, I can’t lose you as well,” his mother cried.

Draco’s face was wet, and for a moment he couldn’t understand why, until he realised it was his own tears. “How? What happened?” he asked, his voice sounding distorted.

“We must get out of here, we need fresh air, and we need to call for help.” Draco didn’t want to leave, but looking at his father’s body, and his mother who was still living. Knowing his mother was right, he wrapped his arms around her and lead her out of their home.

It didn’t take long after he called for help that someone came, running into the house to put out the fire which had moved from the study into the hall. Draco lost count of how long they were inside the house, all he was able to do was to comfort his mother the best he could.

“The fire is out, and we will take the body with us. If you wish you can identify the body right now, or we can wait until later.” His mother sobbings increased, her body shaking all over. Draco couldn’t imagine seeing his father’s burned body, but he didn’t want to leave the task of identifying the body to his mother.

“I’ll do it,” he said, determined to stay strong for his mother. He followed the Auror into his father’s incinerated study, the furniture, walls, ceiling and carpet covered in a black smelly layer of ash. Draco avoided looking at the spot he found his father, afraid of what he would remember. It turned out they moved the body closer to the door, and most of it was wrapped in black fabric.

“If you wish we can do this later,” the Auror who’d fetched him said, looking slightly worried.

“No, it’s best if I do it now,” Draco stated, surprised at how easily the words came to him.

At first glance Draco would say it wasn’t his father, but as he stared at the face, its skin red, white and black; melted and burned, meat and bone showing, Draco could see the similarities between the body and his father and it sickened him. His stomach turned and before he could stop himself he felt the content of his stomach return. Instinctively he turned around, wanting to run to the bathroom, but seeing as there was no time he grabbed a vase. He’d seen dead people before, but unlike the previous times he didn’t have a connection to the victims, neither were they as badly damaged as the body he just saw.

"Why don't you go outside and get some fresh air?" the Auror suggested, resting a soft hand on Draco’s back.

“I’m…” Draco began, his eyes darting over to the body. “It’s him,” he confirmed before he felt the same sickness grow in the depths of his stomach once again, and he he turned away in case he would throw up a second time, but he never did - instead he was helped outside where his mother was still crying. Draco stared at her, feeling himself fall into a state where he couldn’t differentiate reality from a dream, until he believed it was all a dream, or a nightmare.

He sat down next to his mother, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders, trying to comfort her while at the same time hoping he would wake up.

“I think we’re all done here, so we better get you to St. Mungos for a checkup.” Draco heard the Auror, but his body was frozen until the stranger tugged at him. “Come,” the man said in a softer tone. Another Auror took care of his mother, treating her far more delicately than Draco was treated. Looking at his home, Draco saw the body of his father levitated out of the front door, and like before he felt sick as he wondered just how real it all was.

The Aurors handed them over to a couple of Healers, informing them briefly of the incident before they left. The Healers were as kind as the Aurors had been, speaking in a soft tone, asking simple questions before giving them calming draughts. His mother drank it without questioning them, but Draco, who still felt as if he was dreaming, feared they planned to poison him and fought back.

“Mr Malfoy, if you don’t drink this voluntarily I’m afraid you’ll give us no choice but to force you to.” His mother stared at him, her eyes red from all the crying. She wasn’t dying, but that didn’t mean Draco trusted them. “No, get that poison away from me,” he shouted and tried to pull his arm out of the Healers’ grip.

“Mr Malfoy,” she repeated a second time, only to turn towards the other Healers she called for help when he wouldn’t calm down. When they attacked him, he fought harder, but his attempt to break free was futile as they managed to force the potion down his throat. It tasted like a calming draught, but taste was easily disguised so he continued to distrust them. Only when the potion took effect did he stop fighting them; by then he’d kicked two Healers and scratched a third one.

“Put him under surveillance and strap him down so he won’t try something foolish,” the Healer who first offered him the potion said. No matter how hard he tried to fight them as they strapped him down, he was unable to free himself as his limbs wouldn’t listen to him, and then the room turned into a blur and he felt more tired than he’d done since he woke up that day.

“Mr Malfoy,” a woman’s voice said as he was shaken much later. Draco struggled to open his eyes, his skin damp as he tried to twist and turn on the bed, only to discover he was stuck.

“No,” he said, his throat dry.

“Mr Malfoy, calm down or I’ll have to give you another potion.” Draco knew he should do as she ordered, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate, which lead to her forcing him to drink another potion. It tasted like the previous had, completely normal, but Draco still feared that someone planned to kill him.

As his body calmed down a second time eyes focused more on the room, and slowly he remembered the fire. His mind went numb as he remembered his father’s body, and the smell. “I need to throw up,” he said, feeling worse for each second until he couldn’t take it any longer. Fortunately the Healer released him just in time, and turning over to the edge of the bed, he threw up in a small basin she prepared for him.

“Feeling better?” she asked as he laid back on the soft pillow. With a flick of her wand the basin disappeared and a wet and cold cloth appeared which she used to slowly wipe his forehead. Draco nodded, his body trembling slightly. “Here, this will make you feel better.” She offered him a glass of water, or that was what it looked like. For a second he feared it was poisonous, but then decided to accept it seeing as he was thirsty.

“I’ll be back in a little while, just need to check upon someone else. Lie down here and try to relax.” Draco stared at her as she left, finding it difficult to relax when memories of what happened that day haunted him.

His eyes darted between the Healers and the patients, unable to recognise anyone, even his mother, not that he wanted to meet anyone he knew. He patiently waited until the Healer returned before daring to speak. “Where is my mother?”

“She’s resting in another room, your aunt is watching her. Your aunt, Andromeda, visited you a few minutes earlier, but you weren’t responsive so she returned to your mother.” Draco was glad his aunt was there because he didn’t feel like he could be of any help to his mother, not while he was tied down.

“When can I leave?” he asked, trying his hardest to remain calm so she would think he was better.

“You are free to go as soon as your state has improved.” Draco closed his eyes at the weak reply, wanting to ask a second time and demand a proper answer, but instead he kept his eyes closed and waited. “I’ll let you rest, call for me if you need anything.” Draco wanted to tell her he didn’t need her help, but his mother taught him to be polite.

By the time the Healers released him it was dark outside. They offered him and his mother to stay at St Mungos throughout the night; Draco chose to return home but his mother wanted to stay. “You don’t have to go back tonight, we can go there in the morning, together,” his mother told him, which he refused seeing as he didn’t want to stay in a place where they drugged him. Before he left, the Healer gave him a sleeping draught as well as calming draught, in case he needed them. He politely thanked her and left, certain he didn’t need such potions.

The Floo trip home was less frightening than he feared, and he soon found himself in the living room of his home. As he stood there, the scent of what happened earlier reached his nose, reminding him of the horror. He tried to breathe calmly, but the memories became too much and he felt himself gasping for air. His father’s face flashed before his eyes and he felt sick once again, but instead of looking for a place he could throw up he ran up to his room where he closed the door, opened the window and hid under the covers of his bed like a small frightened child. He could still smell the smoke and memories haunted him. It was enough for him to search for the tiny vial containing the sleeping draught, swallowing as quickly as possible before closing his eyes, begging the images to go away. It wouldn’t take long before the potion worked, keeping every memory of that dreadful day at bay.


	2. Chapter 2

The first days after the fire weren’t as bad as Draco feared they would be, even if his father was dead, but after the war, nothing felt normal.

He could still remember the moment things changed for the worse, when his heart beat faster and breathing became a harder task. He didn’t know it the moment it happened, but looking back he knew that was when it began, when his world started crumbling beneath his feet.

It was a smell which made him remember the dreadful moment, a faint smell, but enough to bring back the memories of his father. He didn’t know where the smoke came from but as soon as it reached his nose ,he searched throughout his home for its source, fearing his mother was in danger. No matter how many times he ran through the house he never did find another fire, and it wasn’t until he remembered his mother had gone to visit her sister he finally stopped running around like a madman searching for her, fearing he’d find her dead as well. Instead he returned to his room where he hid under the covers almost as if they could protect him from the evils in the world, feeling small in the large house. 

He found himself worried up until the moment he heard his mother enter their home, but even then he couldn’t help worrying about the unknown danger that would certainly catch him one day. Taking a small sip of the calming draught his mother left on his nightstand, he felt his body relax, and he could finally move out of bed without fearing he’d be burned alive.

His fears vanished by the end of the night, which made him think it was a one time thing, but in the morning he was haunted by the same fear. Again he thought there was a faint smoking smell coming from somewhere in the house, and again he went searching for the source. Instead of finding fire he found his mother, startled by him as he entered her bedroom looking quite worried.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her voice as soft as always.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked, his knuckles white from his grip on the door handle.

“No. The Aurors cleaned the room thoroughly and made sure no smell would leave the room.”

“Are you sure you don’t smell anything?” Draco asked. She sniffed the air a few times before shaking her head, trying her hardest to smile. Draco nodded and left, not sure if he believed her or not, but not wanting to push her any further.

Draco wondered if his problems sleeping had anything to do with him believing he could recognise smoke in the house. Not only did he struggle falling asleep, but he kept waking up in the middle of the night, sweating, his head aching and faint memories of the dreadful day, of his father’s face. Each night was the same, and no matter how many calming draughts he took, he wasn’t able to relax. His distress also affected his appetite, and every time he had to eat, he had to forced the food down his throat.

Days and weeks passed, dreams turned into nightmares, and Draco withdrew even further from the world. The Aurors visited him, questioning him about that day, about anyone Draco might think would have wanted to hurt his father, about the fire, and everything else he might think was of importance. All Draco wanted was to forget, but every day he remembered something. He remembered what he saw, the smell, the warmth of the flames as they threatened to burn his skin, the smoke as it entered his lungs and burned his eyes. Everyone kept asking how he was, probably expecting him to break down in front of them. Draco never showed his weakness, instead he lied, doubting they could help him seeing as none of them knew how it was to see their own father die in front of them, unable to save him. Not only was he unable to save his father, but he didn’t possess any information which would help the Aurors catch the murderer.

After they were done asking their questions, Draco found himself questioning them, wanting to know why after a month they still hadn’t found the murderer. They explained to him it was because of the few leads in the case, that whoever was behind it had hidden their magical signature so well the best Aurors struggled to find it. Draco found it hard to believe they prioritised his father’s murder since his whole family were Death Eaters.

Once the Aurors left Draco turned to his mother and confessed his fears that the Aurors didn’t care about their family. “Shush Draco, I’m sure they’re trying their hardest.”

“How can you be so sure? Why would Aurors help Death Eaters? They are probably laughing and celebrating, one less Death Eater to worry about.” His mother was silent, but her eyes were emotional; she was angry, sad and exhausted. He knew it wouldn’t take long before tears would escape her eyes, and while he cared about her deeply, he didn’t want to be the one having to always comfort her. She might be hurt by his comments, but he wasn’t pleased either as his own mother wouldn’t listen to him. Distressed about how things had turned out, he stomped his way up to his own room.

His mother not listening to him hurt, but not as much as the images of his father that kept haunting him whether he was awake or sleeping, making him relive the fire over and over until he couldn’t take it any longer and hid beneath the covers of his bed like a small child. His head hurt so bad he feared it would torture him until he went crazy. His whole body trembled as he lay there, crying, begging whatever was haunting him to stop. Only when he was exhausted did the flashbacks die out, only to return as nightmares as he fell asleep, reminding him of his failure.

The only time he could relax at all was when he took the calming draught; a few sips and every memory would disappear, even if it was for a few hours. The only drawback with the potion was that it left him sleepy, and his mind numb until he was unable to do anything. Slowly he felt himself slip away from reality, with or without the potion, but he found himself unable to care.

His mother must have noticed his strange behaviour as she kept trying to speak to him, only for Draco to snap at her when she wouldn’t leave him alone. He knew his behaviour hurt her, but no matter what he did he wasn’t able to apologise; it was as if his body wouldn’t listen to him.

It was his rejecting behaviour which pushed her to take the next big step. “Draco,” his mother said one random day. Draco didn’t move from his chair by the window, finding it easier to ignore her than to control his temper. “Please look at me,” she begged, her voice breaking slightly. He felt sick knowing he was hurting his mother, and he hated the way he kept losing control over his emotions whenever they were together. Wanting to be good, he faced her, hoping he was strong enough to stay silent while she spoke.

“Please listen and don’t say anything before I’m done.” He didn't like the sound of that at all, but there was nothing he could say so he kept still. “I love you, with all my heart; unfortunately I don’t know what I can do. You won’t eat, you can’t sleep, I hear you screaming every night, calling for your father, and you won’t even leave your room. I want to help you, but every time I try we end up fighting, and I don’t know how much more I can take. I want to be here for you, you’re my son after all, but as long as I struggle myself I can’t imagine you getting any better, which is why I’ve asked for help.” Draco didn’t fully understand at first, he couldn’t understand who might want to help them. “They are waiting outside, and will take good care of you, and help you in ways I can’t at this moment.”

“No!” Draco shouted as soon as he understood what she meant- Healers. “You can’t do this to me, you can’t just throw me away because you find it difficult, don’t you think I feel the same way? You’re supposed to be here for me, you promised me!” His mother broke down in tears, covering her face with her hands, her body shaking. He hated seeing her crying, he hated knowing he was the reason for her distress, and he especially hated everything that happened to his family after the war. “I’ll go,” he said in the end, surprising both him and her. She didn’t stop crying, but as she pulled him into a hug she was smiling, even if briefly.

“We’ll get through this, I’m sure we will, stay strong and don’t give up.” Draco found it hard to trust her since she decided the best thing for them was to send him away, but somehow he managed to stay quiet. His mother released him soon after so he could pack, saying she would be waiting by the fireplace.

Once he was done filling his bag, he entered the hallway, barely avoiding crashing into two Healers. The Healers introduced themselves before trying to calm him by saying they would take good care of him. Draco doubted they would succeed but decided to agree until he was further away from his mother. His mother was waiting by the fireplace. “I’ll see you in a few days,” she said, sounding far more confident than he felt. The hug ended shortly and Draco followed the Healers through the Floo system.

His wand was confiscated as soon as they reached St Mungos; they said it was for his own protection as well as others. His first thought was to refuse and demand they release him at once, but he was too exhausted to fight them so he obeyed them. The Healers then guided him up to the fifth floor where they took him to a small room which would be his during the stay. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get set, and then I’ll come back and give you a small tour.”

Draco was already exhausted from the short trip and wanted nothing more than to lie down and block out everything. His room was nothing to brag of, the walls had a faint tint of yellow while everything else in the room was white, the size was even smaller than the shed at home, and the bed looked as comfortable as a wooden chair.

The Healer returned as she promised, carrying something which looked like white patient robes. “Put these on, and then I’ll show you around. You’ve got five minutes.” Draco wanted to refuse, but she left before he had a chance to open his mouth. He felt like a small child, but knew there was nothing to be done about it. He felt ridiculous wearing white patient robes, and was simply glad they covered his body. The woman returned within five minutes and told him with a stern voice to follow her. Draco opened his mouth to say something but nothing escaped it, instead his body betrayed him by following the Healer. Draco hated the small tour; seeing other patients was not something he wanted to do, especially because he didn’t feel like he fit there to begin with. Luckily none of the patients seemed even remotely interested in his presence, which made it slightly easier. Back in his room he crawled into bed and closed his eyes, unable to block out the images of his father.

A little later a Healer brought him food, which he ignored as much as he ignored the Healer. Before the night was over he would discover that the Healers were not like his mother who gave up far too easy. After he refused to eat his evening meal they would use force. Not only did they force feed him, but they gave him a few drops of a strong calming draught to keep him from fighting, which only made him feel like a mindless inferi.

“Unless you want to eat your food like this I suggest you eat your food when we bring it to you.” Draco wanted to tell her exactly what he would do with their food but the potion kept him from speaking, or thinking properly, and then they left. Being all alone he rolled into a ball and cried, regretting agreeing to leaving his home.

That night, when everyone was sleeping and the potion had mostly released his mind and body, Draco decided to escape the sterilised prison. He stuffed his bag with his clothes and peaked around the corner to see if anyone was there, waiting a few seconds to be absolutely sure there wouldn’t be any unpleasant surprises. Carefully he snuck out of his room and made his way to the exit, keeping his ears sharp. It turned out leaving the ward was the easiest part seeing as it was not guarded, but unfortunately the elevators were watched by a Healer, who instantly recognised him.

“Mr Malfoy, you should be sleeping. I suggest you return to your room before I call security.” Draco found himself frozen, and then remembered how they forced him to eat. Not wanting to be there once breakfast came he took a chance and ran. Without a plan or proper escape route he didn’t have a chance to get out, but he wouldn’t give up without trying. He made it past the witch and into one of the elevators, but sadly the Aurors who protected the level responded quickly and stopped his elevator he occupied before it reached its final destination.

“Nice try;” one of the Auror’s said as he entered Draco’s elevator, his wand firmly in his grip. Draco wondered what would happen if he tried to reach for the wand, if they would put him in Azkaban instead of St Mungos. The thought was tempting, but just like the day with the fire he was unable to do anything to save himself. The Auror grabbed a hold of his arm and returned him to his room, locking the door before he left, and without a wand Draco wasn’t able to escape.


	3. Chapter 3

Because of his attempt to run away, the Healer gave him a sleeping draught which would keep him calm until morning. Draco was glad it was a sleeping draught, because he hated being awake and drugged. Unfortunately the Healer who checked upon him when he woke up in the morning gave him exactly what he hated, a strong calming draught to keep him from attempting another silly escape. Draco protested so much to the draught that a second Healer had to help the first.

“Mr Malfoy, we’re here to help, you don’t need to fight us," they kept saying. Draco didn’t care about their reasons, all he knew for certain was that he didn’t want to be there, and he would do everything in his power to escape.

After they got him to take the first potion, they kept returning with more, never letting him fully wake up. Draco would have fought every time if it wasn't for the fact that he was incapable of even lifting his arm without assistance. In the end Draco barely reacted to their visits; he wasn't even able to tell them when he was full as they fed him. 

As he sat in his room, unable to do anything beside staring at the floor, a stranger entered his room. “Hello Draco, I’m Mrs Evergreen, and I’m assigned to help you through your struggles while you’re a patient here.” He heard her, but as his mind was drugged it took him far longer to understand her words, or to simply accept she wasn't a figment of his imagination. 

He tried to respond, but all that came out of his mouth was a few unrecognisable sounds. He hated the Healers for turning his mind into a sluggish mess, unable to even protest to the woman who thought she could help him. If his own mother couldn’t help him then Draco doubted a stranger was able to.

“Don’t fight the potion, it will soon pass. The Healers will give you a weaker dose from now on, as long as you behave and do as they say. I don’t know how much you’ll remember of what I have to tell you, but we will go through some of the psychological traumas you’ve faced after the loss of your father. Your mother hopes that you’ll recover because it hurts her to see you like this; we all have the same wishes for you. I will return in the morning when you’re more responsive, until then take care of yourself.”

Just as she left a familiar voice reached his ears. “So, do I need to keep you in this state?” the Healer that was responsible for his state asked, holding a small vial tauntingly in front of his face. “Blink twice for yes, and thrice for no.” Draco slowly blinked three times, fearing she would make him swallow the potion no matter what he said. “Good, don’t make me regret it; we’re only trying to help you, you shouldn’t be fighting us.” She left soon after, and slowly Draco felt his body respond to his wishes as the effect of the calming draught already in his system released him. 

The thought of a second escape attempt was tempting as his body was no longer under the influence of the potion, but because he didn’t want to be tied down to the bed the whole day, but kept in place with calming draughts, he decided to behave until the day he could finally return home; it wasn’t as if they could keep him there if he kept refusing to work with them.

When the potion was mostly gone from his system, allowing him to stand and move around without his legs threatening to give in, Draco decided to take a short walk around the ward. He was sick of staring at the white walls, white floor and white furniture in his room. He stared at the other patients as he passed them, unable to recognise anyone. He was glad he didn't know the other patients seeing as he didn't want to stumble into anyone familiar, little did he know fate had other plans.

As he walked further down the hall he saw a familiar face, but because his mind was still slow from the potion he didn’t fully recognise the man before it was too late. Draco stopped and stared at Neville Longbottom as he walked towards him, his expression slightly surprised as he noticed Draco, stopping slightly before continuing.

Draco stared at him, wondering what he was doing there, if he was a patient. Looking at his clothes he realised they were ordinary robes, and noone who was a patient or worked there were allowed to wear normal clothes. Their meeting was brief as Neville didn’t stop as he reached Draco, instead he walked past him and left the ward. 

Confused, and slightly humiliated, Draco searched for a Healer who could answer his questions. “Was that Longbottom?” he asked, his tongue tickling slightly as he spoke --after effect of the calming draught.

“Yes it was,” the Healer replied as she magically folded towels.

“What is he doing here?”

The healer didn’t look as if she wanted to tell him at first, but did anyway. “His parents are patients here, they’ve been so for almost two decades.”

“Why?” Draco asked.

“I don’t think I’m authorised to give you the information about other patients.”

“Will he come back?”

She was quiet for a while, looking at him, probably wondering if she should tell him. “Tomorrow; he visits them every weekend,” she said and left before he had the chance to ask another question.

Draco stared at the far end of the ward, wondering who Neville’s parents were, and why he hadn’t heard about them before. He knew Neville was brought up by his grandmother, but he couldn’t remember if his parents had ever been mentioned. Curious to see what they looked like, he walked towards the room, carefully peeking inside. He hadn’t expected something special, but was still surprised by how ordinary they looked, not like the parents of a wizard who grew up to fight the Dark Lord. They didn’t speak, they even barely looked at each other, instead they were occupied reading or solving puzzles. Feeling as if he was trespassing, he returned to his room. Walking away he found himself thinking about Neville, wondering that if knowing his back story would have made Draco treat Neville kinder. He wanted to say yes, to imagine he would have been a better child, but knew deep down it wouldn't have changed anything. However, the war changed him, and Neville as well, and while he normally wouldn’t have bothered about Neville before he found himself wanting to speak with him. There was a tiny chance that in the new world two people who used to disliked each other could learn to accept their differences.

*

The next morning Draco was summoned by the special Healer who was determined to help him. He sat down in a large comfortable chair, identical the one she had, and waited for her to speak. She offered him a cup of tea, which he accepted even though he feared it contained a calming draught, or worse.

“So, why don’t you tell me how you’ve been since the death of your father.” Draco stared at her, but found her calm expression uneasy and moved his eyes to the cup in front of him.

“Fine,” he lied.

“I know it’s not easy, but I want you to be honest with me. I know you want to return home as soon as possible, but until you let me help you through this you can’t leave. The Healers informed me of your nightmare, not that I didn’t know you suffered by it before; your mother informed me of your struggles. You dream of the fire, don’t you? Do you blame yourself for what happened?”

Draco was silent a long time before opening his mouth to speak, only all that came out of his mouth was lies. The Healer sighed and put down her cup, then reaching for Draco’s and pulled it out of his hands. “I see you’re not willing to cooperate with me today, so I’m ending our session today, but we’re going to continue this tomorrow.”

He was surprised by the way she allowed him to leave, but chose not to question her as he wanted to get back to his boring room. Just as he was about to open the door and leave her office, she stopped him. “You better know that you’ve got only three chances before I use different methods, which I’m sure you won’t approve of, do you understand?” He wondered what kind of methods she threatened to use, but decided he’d much rather not know. “Two more meetings before we use alternative methods.”

Closing the door behind himself, he found himself angry at the way the Healer ended their session, with threats. Certain his mother wouldn’t accept him staying in a place where they would force him to do something he wasn’t willing to, he walked up to the Healer who was guarding the exit. “Can you send for my mother?” he demanded more than asked. She looked slightly surprised but did as he wanted, sending a message with the owl which sat by her side. Not wanting her to think he was a brat he thanked her before returning to his room, wondering if he should pack at once or wait until his mother told the Healers she was taking him home.

He was about to enter his room when a familiar face caught his attention, Neville Longbottom was back. Draco stared at his own room, finding his plan to pack less exciting as he knew Neville had returned. Staring at the door where Neville disappeared into, Draco wondered why all of the sudden he found the young man interesting. Memories of their childhood returned to him and he remembered how he teased Neville, but then things changed, they changed, surely Neville wouldn’t hate him completely.

As he stared at the room --which belonged to Neville’s parents-- Draco- thought about the different reasons for why he was intrigued by the young man. Except for being pure-blooded there was nothing special with him; he wasn't an amazing Quidditch player, or had any fashion sense, and he wasn't rich, at not as far as Draco knew. Knowing all that should make Draco ignore his desire to speak with him, but he continued to wait for the moment Neville was done visiting his parents.

The second Neville re-entered the hall, Draco found himself eager to speak with him. He didn’t know what to say, or if Neville would even give him a chance to speak, but someone needed to take the first step, and seeing as Draco was the one standing on the wrong side during the war he was the one who needed to gain Neville’s trust.

The space between them was getting smaller as Neville was walking towards him, or more correctly, towards the exit. Draco took a large breath while trying to ignore the little voice telling him he was foolish for thinking that Neville would ever bother with him.

To his amazement Neville didn’t act like a snob like Draco would have when he was younger, instead he stopped as soon as he saw that Draco had something to say. Opening his mouth Draco realised that while he spent a lot of time deciding if he should or shouldn’t speak with Neville, he’d forgotten to think of what to say. “Hi.” It was the first and only thing that came to him as Neville watched him, looking different than he did back at school. He no longer resembled the scared boy which Draco enjoyed teasing, instead he looked confident and strong; and if Draco dared to think it, quite handsome.

“Hello,” Neville replied politely. He looked confused, and slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t laugh or ignore Draco as he’d imagined he would have.

“I…” Draco found it difficult to look at Neville and turned his eyes down to his feet, wishing he’d changed out of the hospital robes. “Yesterday, when you saw me--” He didn’t have a chance to finish before Neville stopped him.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone, and I’m not planning to either.” Draco was taken aback by Neville’s confession, especially since he hadn’t even thought about people finding out he was a patient. He’d learned not to care about what people said about him after the war, if he did he would have lost his mind quite early on.

“No, I don’t care about that, not really. What I wanted to say is, well, I’m not really sure what I want to say.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he wondered if Neville thought he was as pathetic as he felt. “I wanted to apologise for the stupid things I did to you when we were younger.”

“Oh.” Neville looked far more surprised than Draco expected him to be. “Thanks,” he said after a short pause. There were a few more seconds of silence between them before Draco apologised for keeping him from whatever he had planned doing that day. “I don’t have anywhere special to be, visiting my parents is the most important thing on my schedule.” Before Neville left he offered Draco his condolences for the loss of his father and wished him well in his recovery, which was more than Draco dreamt of.

Thinking about his short conversation with Neville, he felt rather proud of himself, not only had he apologised for his stupid behaviour as a child, but he was able to overcome his new difficulty of speaking with anyone who wasn’t his mother. He was so pleased by the small accomplishment that when his mother entered his room ten minutes later he was slightly surprised, until he remembered he’d asked for her.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice tired. 

“Can I come home?” he asked, still wanting to leave.

She sighed and sat down on his bed, her hands trembling slightly. Seeing her in that state made him feel slightly bad for his previous behaviour, for the times he argued with her when she tried her hardest to help. “We talked about this, I can’t help you, which is why you need to stay here.”

The desire to hurt her with words was there, but as he doubted she would change his mind if he was aggressive he kept his comments to himself. “If it’s help I need why can’t the Healers visit me at home?”

“We can’t afford that at this moment, not with my medications, and all the other bills. At least you got your own room, and we can decorate it if you wish.”

“Decorating it won’t make it any better, I’m sick and tired of being tied up here, not allowed to even get fresh air whenever I want it.”

“If you ask kindly I’m sure they will allow you into the garden.”

Draco ignored her and continued. “And they’re threatening to keep me drugged all day,” Draco finished, folding his arms to keep himself from hitting the walls.

“Once you’re better you may come home, but until then you need to stay here and obey their rules.”

“Their rules suck--”

“Draco!” Her voice was sharp and loud, and took him by surprise. She stood up in front of him, no longer looking tired and sad. “I will not have you disrespect them like this, you were taught better. All they are trying to do is help you, and you will, I’m serious Draco, you _will_ try your hardest to overcome whatever problems your father’s death caused. Is that understood?”

No matter how much he disliked being there he knew she was right, even if only slightly. Nodding, he accepted his fate. “Fine.”

His mother left soon after, giving him a soft kiss on his forehead and saying she would return with some things which would turn the room more cozy. Draco doubted it would help but he didn’t want to disappoint her so he simply nodded. When she was gone he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing he’d died in the fire as well, then he wouldn’t end up as a prisoner.


	4. Chapter 4

The second meeting with Mrs Evergreen was just a few hours after Draco’s short conversation with Neville and his argument with his mother. Like the first time, she offered him tea, and while Draco didn’t trust her, he accepted the cup and barely took a sip of the sweet tea with milk and sugar. 

“So, are you willing to work with me today, or do you wish to use your second chance by lying or refusing to speak?” Again Draco found himself surprised by the way she spoke, wondering if her frankness worked at all. Draco didn’t answer her, instead he stared at his cup, gliding his index finger against the handle. “Alright. What about Mr Longbottom, I was informed you two spoke together earlier today; are you friends?”

“No,” Draco whispered, wondering which Healer told her of their discussion, and if they informed her of what was spoken between them.

“Care to explain?” Her voice was soft, completely unlike earlier when she demanded him to decide how much he wanted to cooperate.

Draco didn’t want to tell her; he wanted to keep everything to himself and return home where he could continue living alone. Unfortunately, in order to return home he needed to make them think he was getting better, which meant having to talk about his issues. “I wasn’t the nicest guy when I went to school, and I often bullied him.”

“Was that what you were doing today?”

“No!” he shouted, angry she would even think something like that. Draco recognised the rage as it grew inside him like the fire that claimed his father’s life.

“Then why don’t you tell me what you discussed.”

Draco had half a mind not to tell her, but then he thought of going home and opened up, even if only a little. “I apologised.” He kept his eyes glued on her, wondering what she thought about him, wondering if she even believed him; telling himself he shouldn’t care, he moved his eyes back to his tea.

“I think it was quite mature of you to apologise,” she told him, surprising him.

“You do?” Draco couldn’t stop feeling slightly proud by her words, even if he had no reason to believe her. 

“Yes. I find it admirable every time someone decides to face their past to seek redemption, especially if they do it by their own will while struggling themselves." Draco felt an unidentified heat slowly creep up his cheeks. "Did he accept your apology?"

Draco was quiet a few seconds, wondering what he had to lose by accepting her help. He still doubted she could be of much help, but it couldn't hurt to try. "He said he did, but I don't know if he accepted because he wanted to or because of what happened to my father." Draco always found reasons why not to trust someone --it was a necessary skill during the war. 

"Longbottom is a good boy, and while I haven't had the pleasure to speak with him in a session he seems to be a kind and forgiving young man."

"What happened with his parents?" Draco found himself asking, unable to forget their distant look. 

She smiled softly. "I think you will benefit from learning of his past, maybe it will allow you to face your own demons." Her answer was different than he expected, but he hadn't expected much. "You could always ask Mr Longbottom if he wishes to tell you." 

"I don't want to talk with him." Draco confessed, still feeling ridiculous after the first time. 

"This happened during the first war. Mr Longbottom's parents were a part of the Order of Phoenix. They were caught by a group of Death Eaters and tortured until they lost their minds. It was a tragedy, but the Death Eaters were brought to justice and imprisoned."

"Who were they?" Draco asked curiously.

The Healer didn't look as comfortable as when she told him the first story, but eventually she told him the end. "It was Bellatrix Lestrange, and a few others." Draco didn't know how to react to the information. He was surprised it was his aunt, but at the same time he knew just how crazy she was, both by reputation and experience. "What are you thinking?" she carefully asked, her voice softer.

"I don't know, it's not every day you hear about evil things your aunt does, but to be honest I'm not shocked; she was quite mad when I met her."

"Do you wish to discuss it?" Draco shook his head, wanting to forget his aunt.

The rest of Draco’s session with the Healer passed fast with discussions about Draco’s interests. He found it strange she chose to talk about such small things, especially because he didn’t see how it would help her, but he chose not to question her seeing as he didn’t have to discuss his father’s death.

Days passed slowly by as the only thing Draco did was meet Mrs Evergreen, who had moved on to discuss his childhood. His mother returned two days later with some things which could ease Draco’s stay, and while he was thankful for the thought he found himself barely responding to her as she decorated his room with things from his room. 

“Mrs Evergreen informed me you’re finally opening up,” she said randomly as she was organising the books she brought him. Draco didn’t reply as he wondered what else the Healer told his mother, wondering if she knew everything-- not that he told her much.

No matter how much his mother decorated, he still felt out of place and wanted home, but whenever he mentioned early release his mother would tell him just how much she cared about him, and how hard it was for her to see him struggling, which was why he had to stay until he was well and could take over the Malfoy estate as it was expected. Draco had no choice and continued moping until she left.

In the beginning he kept mostly to himself, finding comfort in his books. However, it wouldn’t take long before he was bored and sought out new things to do, which was how he ended up meeting the other patients. It wasn’t easy for him connecting with the others, not only did he still have difficulties connecting with others, but they had their own problems.

It was difficult, but slowly he was able to have conversations with the others, and while they didn’t have any deep talks they did find some interests they shared, either it was books, Quidditch or something else. Not every patient greeted him with open arms; some knew exactly who he was and what his family had done. Draco thought it was sad some still chose to hate him, even after everything that happened, but he chose to concentrate on something else; Neville’s parents.

Neither one knew him, even when he said his last name, all they cared about was the tales he told and the times he read books out loud. While Draco did things for them which they enjoyed, they managed to teach him a few things as well. It wasn’t something special like a skill he could use against others, they taught him to appreciate the small things, like small moments in the stories he read, or small things like a bird settling outside the window, singing a cheerful song. Draco also learned to be patient, especially because they kept forgetting things he’d read and he had to repeat himself.

Mrs Evergreen kept telling him how proud she was seeing him reach out to the other patients, and how it was changing him for the better. He didn’t see it in the beginning, but then as he continued to see her he realised his nightmares were further apart, and less frightening. While he didn’t stop thinking about leaving the ward, he found it less like a prison as he got to know the other patients, as well as Healers.

Even with the progress he made, he still didn’t want to meet certain people, like Neville. He knew bonding with his parents meant he felt slightly responsible for what happened with them, and he regretted all the bullying he put Neville through when they were back at school. Everything he did pointed to him trying to redeem himself, but that didn’t mean he wanted to meet Neville a second time, which was why he kept to his room every weekend until he knew Neville left.

His plan worked to a certain point, but then Neville changed his schedule, walking into his parents room just as Draco read a book about a wizard who tamed a dragon. Draco’s words died as they reached his lips, his heart beating harder and his head going numb; it was as if he was under the influence of the calming draught all over again.

“What are you doing?” Neville asked. Draco stared at him dumbly, his mouth open as he still found it difficult to find words as Neville continued to look at him. Neville’s mother said hello to Neville, like she would any other stranger, like she did Draco the days she couldn’t remember him.

When breathing got worse, Draco did the only thing he knew how to do; he ran back to his room and closed the door. He was afraid Neville would follow him, but there was no knock on his door by a man who wanted to question him.

Not knowing how long Neville would stay, Draco didn’t leave his room, barely wanting to when a Healer said it was time for his session with Mrs Evergreen. She had of course heard of his encounter with Neville, but didn’t push him to talk about it. He thought he was lucky until she informed him they would be discussing his father. It wasn’t the first time they had, but unlike the previous times she decided to talk about things which happened after the end of the war. Draco wanted to ignore her questions, and to pretend everything in his life had been going well until the fire, but then he remembered how proud she was of his progress.

Opening up about his father’s behaviour after the war was difficult, especially because he wasn’t aware of the change when it first happened, he was too young to understand at the time. Carefully she asked questions he never imagined anyone would ask, or that he would answer. It was difficult opening up, but Mrs Evergreen was good and managed to help Draco through it all, and he remembered the bad as well as good things.

“I think we’ve made some great progress; you’ve changed so much since you first came here, for the better. I don’t know how long it will be before you can be released, but I don’t think it will be long now.” It wasn’t the first time she said it, but it was one of the few times Draco felt like it could be true.

After his big breakthrough life seemed to be easier, he still had times when he wanted to hide and pretend he was still a child, that the war never happened, that his family was well. He still wanted to hide, but he learned what to do whenever he had the urges; that of course didn’t include Neville. Every weekend when he visited his parents Draco would make sure he stayed in his room until he was gone. The difficult part about being around Neville wasn’t because he would see him fragile, it was the crush he couldn’t avoid. It was easy pretending it was all a phase in the beginning, certain it would all be over as time passed and he got to know others. Things didn’t get better, instead of forgetting about him Draco couldn't’ stop thinking about Neville, he even dreamt about him a few times. At least he should be happy he wasn’t having nightmares every night, but some of his dreams were not as innocent as he would have liked, and he found it embarrassing waking up, not knowing if anyone heard him or not.

His plan of avoiding Neville worked for a few weeks, until Nevilly did something Draco hadn’t expected; he visited during a weekday. Draco was playing a round of wizard chess with a woman who struggled mentally as well when a Healer informed him he had a guest. Draco was surprised seeing as almost none of his previous friends had cared to visit after the war, so of course he was curious to see who might bother. It was no old friend, as he first expected, instead his visitor was someone who he intentionally avoided. 

“Hi,” Neville said when Draco hadn’t made any attempt to acknowledge his presence. Draco knew the right thing was to politely reply, but he found it difficult to make any sound when all he could think of was the possibility of hiding. “I’ve tried to catch you when I normally visit, but I think you might have been avoiding me.” Draco still didn’t speak as he couldn’t understand why Neville cared to see him. “The Healers told me you’ve been spending some time with my parents.”

Not wanting to look like a bigger loser than he already did he decided to use some of the tricks Mrs Evergreen taught him. “Yes,” he answered. If he struggled to speak with someone it was better to give a short answer than trying to speak.

“I wanted to thank you, because even if they don’t always remember what’s happening, I do notice they’ve changed.” Draco expected him to leave, but he looked far more ready to sit down than leave.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, finding it slightly easier than the first time he spoke.

“How have you been?”

Draco wanted to hate him for asking all the questions, for forcing him to talk, but he found it difficult to hate someone he had a crush on. “Good.” Draco was no longer lying when he said he was fine, even if he was far from perfect.

“I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, I just wanted to repay you for everything you have done. If there is anything you want, let me know and I’ll see if I can get it for you.”

“All I care about is getting out of here, even if it’s to the gift shop above-- I’ve been locked in this ward for months.” It was all a joke, and Draco hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. He wanted to tell Neville it was a joke, but when he said he would see what he could do Draco found himself curious to see if Neville would succeed.

It finally looked as if Neville thought of leaving when another patient interrupted them. Mrs Brown was an old lady who struggled with her own demons after the second war and loss of several family members. “Ah, young love, you better make a move before he’s taken, I hear he’s quite popular,” she told Draco before leaving as if nothing had happened. Draco couldn’t stop the blush from exposing him, wondering what Neville would think of him. It didn’t look as if he found Draco disgusting, or the woman who just assumed they were dating.

“Well, I’ve got a few plans today, so I guess I’ll see you later?” Draco was barely able to nod as he continued to fear what Neville thought of him. Luckily he left not long after, and Draco could return to the game of wizard chess.

The first few days after Neville visited him were quite hard. He wanted to trust Neville, and to think that he wouldn’t let a comment make him dislike Draco, but as he hadn’t heard anything from him he imagined the worst, that Neville found him disgusting. His fear of being rejected by someone he liked affected his mood, as well as progress. He managed to avoid snapping at the other patients, but there was more than once that the Healer threatened to give him a calming draught if he didn’t behave.

He could still remember the moment when everything changed. He was sitting in his room on the chair, staring at the pages of a book he normally loved, thinking about his progress which was lost because of something as stupid as a crush. There was a soft knock on his door, interrupting his thoughts. “Go away,” he said before he had a chance to see who it was, gasping slightly when he recognised the man.

“Is that what you really want?” Neville asked. Draco shook his head, still shocked to see Neville. “May I come in?” Draco nodded, forgetting there was a book on his lap as he shifted in his chair, the book crashing against the floor. “Let me get that,” Neville said as he stood only a few steps away from him, reaching for the book just as Draco was about to.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked as he accepted the book, unable to keep his eyes away from Neville’s hands.

“I’m taking you out for a short while,” he said, shocking Draco even further. “It might not be to the floor above, but I think you will like it.” Draco wanted to believe Neville, to know that he was allowed to leave the ward for the first time.

“Where?”

“Just wait and see. Now, you better get dressed, we have only an hour.” Neville left the room, closing the door behind him. Draco was so excited that he wasn’t able to move the first few seconds. Slowly his mind worked again and he moved over to the closet where his untouched clothes waited for an opportunity. It didn’t take long before he was dressed and could face Neville, his mood better than it had been in days.

Before they were free to go, the Healer by the door informed them of the rules, like one where Draco wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unsupervised. Draco didn’t care if Neville had to stay with him all the time, not because he still had a crush on him, but because he was allowed to go out.

Neville didn’t tell him where they were heading; all he said was that it was a place Neville enjoyed quite a bit. Holding Draco’s arm, Neville Disapparated from outside St Mungo’s, landing somewhere far away from the city. The first thing Draco saw was rows and rows with flowers, plants and bushes. Butterflies and birds flew above them as Draco tried to take in the pretty view. All he expected was a small shop on the corner of St Mungo’s, instead Neville surprised him by bringing him out into nature.

“This is beautiful,” Draco said, forgetting everything about his fear to speak.

“Thank you,” Neville said.

“You did this?” Neville nodded. Draco looked at the sea of colourful flowers, wondering how long it took him to do it, and why he did it. Deciding to ask another time he slowly walked down the small path, letting his hands glide across the flowers.

He didn’t know how long he walked before Neville chose to join him, telling him about the different plants. Draco listened, even if he didn’t fully find plants as fascinating as Neville did.

Unfortunately enjoying himself meant the time going far too fast for his liking, and before he knew it the time to return had come. Draco wondered what would happen if he tried to run, but knew he couldn’t do it to Neville, not when he was kind.

“Before we return, I have one question,” Neville said, sounding slightly strange. Draco nodded, wondering if something was wrong. “What that woman said, was it true?”

Draco felt a coldness wash over him as he realised that Neville was referring to. He had two options, he knew that. He could lie and hope his crush would pass by itself, and that Neville would forget all about it, or he could tell the truth and hope Neville wouldn’t find him repulsive.

“Yes,” he said, finding it hard to lie. He tried to read Neville’s expression but it was too hard, luckily it wouldn’t take long before he told Draco exactly what he was thinking.

“In that case then if we do this again I’ll make sure it will be a date, that is, if you want to.” Draco could barely breathe as he realised Neville wanted to go out on a date with him; eagerly he nodded before Neville would change his mind by seeing just how pathetic he was. “Ok, we better return before they send Auror’s after us,” Neville joked and returned Draco to his ward.

Draco tried to act normal after his trip, which could have been a date if he’d told Neville he actually wanted to date him. All he could do was think about the different plants he saw that day and Neville who eagerly informed Draco of their names and what made them special. Resting in his room, he struggled to stop smiling as he thought about the future date, wondering when it would happen and what they would do.

While he didn’t know what would happen, he was certain his future would be brighter than what his life had been that far, and that thought was enough for him to work harder to get through his problems. That night, Draco slept better than he had in years.


End file.
